Cookies and Biscuits
by CJ.Ruru
Summary: A collection of headcanon one shots that are all centered around England and America. Genres and ratings may vary.
1. A Monster in Bed

**A/N: Hello! To those who have seen me before, this story may seem familiar. I have decided to make a collection of headcanon centered oneshots revolving around America and England. These will go back and forth between mutiple genres, so please enjoy and let me know which you enjoy! Also, if you have suggestions for a one shot, let me know, and I will write it up!**

 **Summary:** UsUk-America is a heavy sleeper. He also likes to take up the whole bed and snore louder than a giant grizzly bear. Normally, England can put up with America's terrible sleeping habits, but not when spooning turns into suffocation and a death grip.

 **Rating:** T for implied sexual content as well as language

America was sound asleep. That was far more than England was going to get any time soon. His boyfriend lied sprawled across the entire king sized bed, including half on top of England. This wasn't the worst part though. Oh, no. The worst of it all was that America's head lied on top of England's chest, mouth wide open, drooling and snoring rather obnoxiously. As for England, he was lying on his back, one arm trapped under America's body and the other stuck to his side. His legs were both tangled with America's and he had dark circles under his eyes. This was probably the fourth time this night that he had woken up because of America's terrible sleeping habits.

At this point in the night, England didn't know what he could do; especially seeing that he needed to pee. _Badly._ The British nation let out a heavy sigh and glanced at America once more. He decided on attempting to wake the sleeping American as carefully as he could.

"America…" he said softly. Not even a grunt. "Ames?" Still nothing.

England growled under his breath and attempted to move out from under America's weight. Why did he have to be so heavy? It wasn't even all fat, most of it seemed to be from his muscle! The movement ended up getting a response from America, but not one that England liked too much.

"Mnnnn." America groaned. He then rolled from his back to his stomach, and instead of half on England, he was completely on England. The worst of it all was America's arm was now holding England tightly like a teddy bear.

"Bloody hell…!" England gasped, attempting to scoot away, but he wasn't able to move fast enough. The British nation was now trapped for good under the weight of his boyfriend. The only part of his body that America wasn't on top of was England's head.

"America!" England yelled. He wasn't playing nice guy anymore. America's leg was over England's crotch, putting pressure on the Brit's bladder. If England didn't act fast, he would never be able to live with the results.

As for America, all he managed to do was whine and shove his face into England's collar bone; not something England enjoyed. It was then determined there was only one thing left to do… England took in a deep breath and released it before a sly grin crawled across his lips. The elder nation raised his free arm slightly, getting his fingers right on America's armpit. Considering the younger nation was sleeping in only boxers, there was no hassle to get to the desired spot. Once there, England began to tickle America.

Just as England hoped! America bolted right up, giggling the entire time, and rolling over onto his back and guarding his armpits.

"Shit, England! Ahahaha!" America seemed as though he were crying and laughing at the same time now.

England can't help but laugh at America and shake his head, deciding to take the tickling one step further by sitting on the American's chest. There, he went back and forth between tickling America's neck, armpits and occasionally his sides. Tickling the American wasn't all that hard considering he had nothing on due to the fun they had that previous night.

"Good morning, love," England cooed, continuing to tickle his American boyfriend.

"Ahahaha—f-fuck you—ahahaha, England…! Ahahaha!" America stammered out in between fits of laughter. England only smirked slyly down at America.

"Oh, but you already did that last night," England taunted. America could not stop laughing, and eventually, England had mercy on the younger nation and stopped tickling him. America took a few moments to catch his breath before frowning childishly up at England (who was still on top of him).

"The fuck was that for?" America asked. England shrugged.

"You were crushing me and wouldn't wake up. I also have to use the bathroom." England responded casually. America seemed exasperated.

"If you had to go to the bathroom, why didn't you go after I moved instead of sitting on me and tickling me more?" America whined.

England grinned and got off America, and slipped off of the bed. He gave leaned down and gave the American a quick kiss on the lips before answering,

"You're quite cute when you get tickled like that, treacle."

Without another word, England slipped on his pants which were lying on the floor close to the foot of the bed. Even if no one was at his house other than America, he did not want to walk out in only his boxers.

"You suck, England!" America called after him. England shrugged and called back,

"If you're not out of bed by the time I get back, I won't hesitate to do it again!"

America's eyes lit up fast when he heard England's words, and he was quick to get to his feet. The younger nation threw on his pants and made his way downstairs calling out to England,

"If you dare touch me again like that I won't hesitate to not make you breakfast!"

England then popped his head out of the bathroom and called down nervously,

"O-Oi, don't do that…!"

England then rushed out of the bathroom to follow America into the kitchen. There, the two carried out their normal morning routine of making and eating breakfast together, followed by morning cuddles on the couch. It seemed as though it was just going to be another crazy, but wonderful day well spent with one another.


	2. When All is Lost

**Summary:** WWII, Blitz- England is very sick and injured due to the reoccurring bombing happening in his country. He is being forced to stay in the hospital rather than with his people which is very upsetting to him. Can a certain self-proclaimed Hero help him find his way?

 **Rating:** T for heavy content

The year was 1940, and that was a year that no one liked to remember. The Second World War was occurring, and it felt as though the world was coming to turmoil. The war took a huge toll on everyone—especially England. England's people were being bombed continuously, and there was nothing the nation could do about it. His people were dying daily and he was stuck in a hospital. It's not even like the hospital bed was all that comfortable. England was shoved into a small white, twin bed that felt like wooden bored. One would think a bed for the sick and injured would be much more comfortable, but it wasn't. There was a tiny window up high across from the door that let a little bit of sunlight in, but not much.

Most of England's hospital days were bitter and spent arguing with his boss about being there. He felt it was important for him to be in the shelters with his people during these times, but Churchill would not allow it. The best thing England could do for his people right now was try his best to physically get better. Of course as long as his country continued to be destroyed, that was very unlikely. Though at least in the hospital, England could be somewhat treated and looked after.

England wasn't entirely alone in all of his hospital days, either. The other allies came by to check up on him and give him updates on the war. His brothers stopped by as well, but they mostly stayed at England's place; keeping an eye on things while the English nation was away. There was one nation in particular though who hadn't shown up yet, and England couldn't decide if he cared or not. Of course that one nation happened to be America.

America, who refused to join the war. He knew everything that was going on, but he refused to get himself involved. That frustrated everyone, especially England. He always loved to gloat about how he was The Hero, and how strong he was, but when the time came that he was actually needed he refused to help. No one could really understand it. That was nothing to fuss over at the moment though. At the moment, England needed to rest, and that is what he was doing. The Brit was sound asleep in bed. His face was red and his body seemed weak. It wasn't a pleasant sight to see.

"England…" A voice said softly. Finally, it was America. After all these weeks of being locked up in the hospital, America showed up to visit England in his time of need.

England was asleep though. Sound asleep. America didn't want to disturb him, but he didn't want to leave either. There was a wooden chair by the bed, so America decided to seat himself there for the time being.

"He will be glad to see you," Another voice said. America looked over to the door, and it was England's boss, Winston Churchill. America gave Churchill a meek smile and shrugged his shoulders.

"President Roosevelt finally talked me into coming," America admits. "Not that I didn't want to…"

"Good man," Churchill said in reply. He crossed his arms and walked over to America and England, looking England over on the bed. "He finally let himself sleep... England has been so persistent on staying in the bomb shelters with his people. He forgets about his own health though."

America nodded, also looking towards England. The younger nation wasn't quite sure what to say. He sighed softly and sunk back in his chair. Both he and Churchill sat there in a silence that seemed to go on forever. It wasn't long before a change of events occurred and England began to wake up.

"Churchill…" England muttered, coughing after he spoke. America winced when England coughed, and Churchill just sighed.

"You have a new visitor," said Churchill to England. "He's been rather worried about you."

England turned his head to the side slightly, and saw America. He frowned. He didn't know if he was happy or not, but he did know that he was far too exhausted to try and pretend to be happy.

"Bloody git, why are you here?" England murmured. America felt a sting in his chest from the harsh greeting, but forced himself to smile.

"Wanted to make sure you were doing okay." America said, trying to put a bit of cheeriness in his voice. "A-After all, I am the Hero, and Heroes have to make sure everyone is safe!"

England continued to frown at America. He couldn't handle the American's obnoxious behavior, not in this state. Why his boss allowed America to come, he didn't know. England then forced himself to sit up, but it was obvious he was struggling. The British nation coughed and shook the entire time and Churchill and America could only watch him pitifully.

"I don't need your bloody pity," England growled. His glare turned from America to his boss. "What I need is to be with my people…" A few more coughs came out, and America sunk back down in his chair again. Churchill only shook his head while crossing his arms.

"You're in no state to leave England," he said. "And you won't be leaving if I have anything to do with it."

England felt as though his face was now in a permanent frown. Not only was he stuck in the hospital, but now he was stuck with America as well. Why did he have to wake up now? It was then that Churchill let out a long sigh, and let his arms drop to the side.

"I'm going to let you two chat for a bit. I have some business I need to attend to. Get better, England."

They all said their goodbyes, and Churchill left the hospital room. Once the Prime Minister had left, England turned his frown back on America.

"I don't need you here, America." England stated. America sighed and sat up more in the chair now. He couldn't let England's negativity get to him. He was here to help, not make things worse!

"Well," America started. "You're sick and hurt and well… kinda weak right now!" America's words didn't seem to be making England feel any better. In fact, they seemed to be doing the opposite. However, that didn't seem to make the American stop speaking. "And since I'm the Hero and everything, it's my duty to try and help you and lift your spirits!"

"… America, go home." England growled.

"Mn…" America whined slightly at England's rejection. "England… you're really sick, and I'm worried about you… I can't just go home…"

Finally, America had done it. England's glare began to soften, and although he didn't seem happy or thankful, he at least no longer seemed angry or annoyed.

"America," England began quietly. "I'm fine… I just need to get out of here…" England turned his gaze away from America and down to his bed. It was obvious he wasn't happy about his whereabouts.

"You can deny it all you want, England, but you're not fine. You're the total opposite." America said.

The younger nation then stood up and gave England a weak smile. "But just because you're not okay right now, doesn't mean you won't be soon!" As the Hero here, it seemed like America's job to give England a little inspirational speech, and judging by how England began to talk, he really needed one.

"What's the bloody point?" England groaned. "My people are being bombed nightly and there's nothing I can do about it! They depend on me… and I'm letting them down…"

America and England shared a moment of silence with each other for about five minutes. America knew how England felt—he was in the process of trying to fix his economy. His people were dirt poor at the moment, living homeless and starving. He felt just as useless as England, if not more.

"You'll pull through this, England," America said, grinning towards the Brit. "I know you will. You're strong, and powerful, and you don't seem to know the meaning of the word giving up!" England still wouldn't look at America, so America knew he had to keep trying harder with his pick-me-up speech.

"England!" he yelled. That got England's attention. "You conquered, what, nearly half the world at some point? You've been around for who knows how many centuries, and you have some of the most patriotic people ever! You're people believe in you, England. They believe you can fight through this. You'll get better and you'll kick Germany and Japan's asses!" America punched his fist into his palm when he made his last statement. He finally got a tiny smile from England. "Don't give up, England… I believe in you. We all believe in you."

England's smile grew a bit wider, and America's did as well. The Brit coughed a coupled times, but he still smiled up at America.

"Thank you, America…" England said softly. "I needed that…"

"Of course you did!" America announced, pumping his fist into the air now. "And you also need to stay here in the hospital. I'm sure one of your brothers is looking after your people for you right now, so you don't need to stress."

Now, England's frown came back. Even though America was able to lift up his spirits again, there was nothing that could make him feel better about sitting in a hospital and doing nothing while his country was being bombed.

"They're my people, America. I should be with them." England stated. Now, America frowned and crossed his arms.

"If you were there, what would you be doing?" America asked sternly. England looked dumbfounded by the question.

"What would I be doing?" he repeated. America nodded. "I would be helping my people, bloody hell!"

"How?" America asked.

"… I would reassure them everything is going to be alright…"

America sighed heavily.

"Don't you think people are doing that?" America asked. England was silent. "What if things got worse? What if you fainted went into a coma? Not much can be done for you in a bomb shelter."

"Nor in a hospital!" England retorted. "I'm a nation, not a human, America! The hospital can't help me much either!"

"But the other nations can. Your boss can." Even though England had begun to shout, America managed to stay calm. It was strange. "Your boss isn't hiding out with your people. He's working to keep them as safe as possible while doing his part in the war. You need to make sure you are stable, and then go back to the war once you are better."

England fell silent again. He was beaten, and he had nothing else to argue back with. He let out a small sigh of defeat.

"How do you know all this and you're so young?" England asked faintly. America could only grin at England, and look at the Brit reassuringly.

"Because I learned it from the best country ever." America answered.

England rolled his eyes and leaned back in his bed. He had no idea how much America still looked up to him, and he would probably never know that. A few minutes after the silence, America's eyes widened, and he perked up as well.

"I almost forgot!" he said, reaching into his jacket pocket. "I brought you something!"

England watched America curiously as he fumbled with his pocket. It only took a few seconds before America pulled out what looked like a very old, wooden… toy soldier?

"What…" England began. America dusted off the toy and held it carefully to England. It was one of the toy soldiers from the set England had made for America when he was just a small colony. England's face went red as he looked over how well kept the toy seemed to have been.

"I thought this might help you find your strength…" America said. "Remember? You gave them all different faces…"

England remained in silence out of pure shock. He took the toy and looked it over carefully in his hand.

"I can't believe you still have these…" England said quietly. America shrugged and sat back down in the chair finally.

"They were special," he said. "And whenever I feel helpless… they help me find my strength… I used to play with them when you were gone. Now I keep them in my storage room, and I dig them out whenever I need a little pick-me-up. I'm hoping this guy can do the same for you…"

"A-America…" England stammered. "You… you have no idea how much it means to me that you've kept these all these centuries…" For a moment, America could have sworn he saw tears pooling up in England's eyes. America simply shrugged though, his smile beaming at England.

"I'm glad it means something," America said. "Now I don't have to feel like such a sentimental old man for keeping them." The young nation laughed at his own joke, and England rolled his eyes, and grinned.

"You're far from being considered an old man, America."

"I know." America answered.

With everything said and done, England and America were able to enjoy a relaxing visit. America brought England some non-hospital food which was very much appreciated. A few of the other nations such as France and China popped in at some points and joined in the visit. It was nice finally being able to see England not stressing out about everything going on outside the hospital. No, he was able to forget (at least for a few hours) all of his worries and just focus on himself with the help of the others.


	3. Broken

**Summary:** America is desperate and in need of help. His country is tearing itself apart. The one person who promised to always be there... broke that promise.

 **Angst/Drama. Rated T for language and content. Enjoy!**

America stood outside of England's house for what felt like decades. His country was in the process of tearing itself apart, and he was completely lost. The young nation felt his eyes pooling when thinking about why he came to England's house in the first place. He was weak, and he needed help. America did not know where else to turn because the only other country he knew was France, but he was in debt still from his Independence. Therefore, he was left with England.

Curling his fingers into a fist, America forced himself to knock on the large doors in front of him. He was wet from the rain that was showering down on him, and his expression blended in well with the depressing grey skies. It was a few minutes before the door opened, and America's face shot up immediately, making direct eye contact with England. An awkward silence was spared when America blurted out,

"England?"

"Yes?" England asked bluntly. "Why are you here?"

America was silent, unsure of what he should do or say. Knowing England did not like to sit around and waste time, America was quick to ask,

"Can I come in? I'd like to talk to you." America said, trying his best to sit up straighter as well as look serious. It was obvious to everyone that England still did not take America seriously as a nation, but that didn't mean the young country would stop trying.

England frowned at America, his eyes seemingly filled with disappointment; not that America was ever expecting England to be proud of him anytime soon. After a moment of thinking, England stepped back. He didn't say anything, but he allowed America to enter the house. America had to admit that he was surprised that England allowed him inside. The Empire still seemed rather bitter towards him, but that was probably expected. After all, America broke England's heart less than a century ago, and bombed his capital merely 50 years ago. Their relationship was nowhere close to healing anytime soon.

Once inside the house, England led America into the living room, and told him to take a seat.

"I just made a fresh pot of tea. Would you like a cup?" England offered; his voice sounding monotone. America nodded, but stayed quiet, sitting down on the love seat after England turned his back. The Brit arrived back in a short amount of time, holding two cups of tea and placing them both on the coffee table. He then took a seat in the arm chair, crossing his arms and looking directly at America.

"Thanks," America said, grabbing the tea and blowing on it before taking a sip. England nodded.

"Now what did you come here to talk about?" England asked, getting straight to the point. "I'm assuming your government made you come here to have whatever discussion it is you want to have."

America wasn't too sure how to respond. That was partly true, but he personally wanted England's help as well. America was looking to fix his relationship with England, and if he could get the Brit on bored, that could be the first step in fixing their broken relationship.

"Kind of…," America started to say. "Although my government wanted me to talk to you, I wanted to as well. So it's not all my government." England scoffed, but didn't speak. "Anyways," America continued. "I'm sure you know about… the trouble that has been going on in my country lately…"

"You're having a Civil War, I know." England interrupted. America bit his lip and nodded.

"Yes… and well… I was wondering if you could… sort of help me out…" America's voice was soft, it sounded like it could break at any moment. The newer country avoided eye contact with England. It honestly took a lot for America to ask for help. He had been trying too hard to get the other nations to see him as an equal nation, but that was harder than he expected, and asking for help was even harder. Using the last bit of strength and bravery, America looked at England.

England did not look nice, nor did he even look angry or annoyed. The only way America could describe how England looked was… amused.

"Why the hell are you smiling?" America snipped. England's smile grew and he began to chuckle a bit as well.

"I was trying to refrain from laughing, but that is obviously not working out too well." England said sarcastically. America was dead silent. He had no idea how to take in what England was saying. Was he seriously taking this as a joke?

"Come _on_ England!" America cried. "My people are _d-destroying_ each other, and I don't know what to do! It hurts, I am physically hurting, England…" America's voice got soft again and he broke his eye contact with England. There was silence before England began to speak.

"Oh, I know you're hurting, America. It was only a matter of time." America felt tears rolling down his cheeks as he glanced back up at England. "It was only a matter of time before your country failed before _you_ failed." England sneered.

America felt like he was just punched in the gut. He wanted to throw up, but worse of all… America felt like he was breaking.

"I'm not failing…" America mumbled. "Not… not yet anyway…"

England raised a bushy brow at his former colony. Whether or not England thought America was weak, there was no questioning that America looked pitifully weak in this moment.

"Not yet," England repeated. "But you will. I told you from the very beginning that you are not capable of being an independent nation, but what did you do? You revolted, and you left." England stood up and grabbed America by the collar of his shirt, and jerked the young nation to his feet. America's eyes were filled with fear that could not be escaped.

"I followed my people…" America hissed between his teeth. England laughed bitterly, letting go of America's shirt and turning his back on the American. The Empire placed both hands on his hips as he snapped,

"Haha, you bloody fucking Yankee… you followed the same twats who are now in the process of killing each other," England turned and faced America once more, a bitter smile on his face. "You're falling apart, just like I said you would!" England yelled. "And now I get to sit back and watch you crumble like the pathetic _colony you are_. I can't even believe you had the gall to ask me, the bloody British _Empire_ for help with your pathetic problems. You are a sorry excuse for a country, America, and I am completely ashamed to say I had anything to do with your upbringing."

"Oh screw you, England!" America screamed. By now, there was a river of tears flowing from America's eyes and down his cheeks. Both his hands were balled into tight fists, causing his knuckles to turn white. America wanted to fight back, but he was struck with sharp pain in his heart. America gasped, clenching his chest while squeezing his eyes shut. "I hate you, England. I. Hate. You."

"You mean absolutely nothing to me, America. Not anymore." England said.

America opened his eyes slowly beginning to glare at England. There was nothing left to do. The young nation, turned his back to England, but before he walked away, America smacked the two tea cups off the table, causing tea to stain the carpet, and both cups to smash into pieces. With his final statement made, America was able to leave.

 **AN: Ouch. Here is a new fic that I wrote based on the American Civil War. As it turns out, the US actually asked the British for help. However, the British basically said "lol fuck you" and wanted to watch the country suffer. I'm debating on writing a second part to this. It would essentially be the same thing except from England's perspective rather than America's. I'm not sure if I want to though. If enough people are interested then maybe? Well, I hope you all enjoy this and let me know what you think!**


	4. Our First

**Summary:** _America and England have been dating for couple months now. Finally, the first "I love you" slips out of one of their mouths._

 **Romance and major fluff. Rated T for mild language and a in depth kissy-poo.**

 **Enjoy!**

For once, the sun was shining brightly over London. America gazed outside at the garden; the bright green grass swiftly swaying with the helpful push of the wind. The small plants cast small, unusual shadows thanks to the rare appearance of the beaming sun. America groaned and turned from lying on his stomach to his side.

"Englaaand," the younger man whined. "Let's go outside! It looks so pretty out for once!"

The elder gentleman, England, poked his nose above the newspaper he held up, covering most of his face; though America could still envision the frown hidden behind those bland, printed words.

"What are you talking about? It's always pretty here…," England murmured. It seemed as though he was trying not to sound offended.

America huffed and rolled his eyes. His youthful spirit wanted to run and explore, be out in the fresh air. Not cooped up in his boyfriend's cozy little box. The country sat up then stood up, marching over to England and pulling the man off of the couch.

"It's time for some fresh air, old man." America said with a lopsided grin. "I think we could both benefit from it!"

England, obviously startled when yanked away from his comfortable couch, ended up dropping the newspaper he was pretending to be interested in and found himself up on his feet, nearly falling right into America's chest.

"Oi, hold on a moment, America!" England reprehended. America's grin softened to a sweet, childlike smile as he allowed England to compose himself. The Brit briskly brushed himself off and straightened up. "Now," he began. "What exactly is it that you would like to do outside that we can't do in here?"

"Go for a walk in the park?" America answered. England smiled.

"Fine. Do you want to pack a lunch to take along?" He asked. America shook his head.

"We should pick something up somewhere. You cool with that?" America asked. England nodded.

"I suppose." England agreed.

Both England and America left the town house and entered the sunshine outdoors. They headed to a small café first and picked up a couple sandwiches, and iced tea for England and a coke for America. They also got a pastry to split with each other for dessert. As they exited the café, England made a suggestion.

"I know a very nice park we can go to. It's not too far from here if you're interested."

America smiled wildly, his face now beaming with joy.

"What kinda park? Is it like Central Park? Or like Yellowstone National Park?" he asked curiously. England rolled his eyes, shaking his head slightly.

"Why do you compare everything to something in your country?" England asked. "It shows a lack of appreciation you know."

America's expression of enjoyment turned to a pout. Of course he appreciated other cultures; his own country was built on an entire mash up of cultures! Regardless, America crossed his arms over his chest and asked,

"Well what is this park? And how far away is it?"

"It's called _The Regent's Park*_ ," England answered. "It's a lovely park, about a five minute's walk away from here. I am sure that you will enjoy it. It's where lots of the sporting events take place, actually." England's smile grew as he saw the excitement on America's face drastically increase at the news of sports."

"Do you think there will be any today?" he asked eagerly.

"Considering the beautiful weather today, there ought to be a football game or two going on." England answered, taking a quick sip of his still rather hot tea. America grinned happily, taking England's free hand in his own as they walked along the sidewalk o where the park was.

The random, yet pleasant, gesture took England off guard and he felt a scarlet blush dance across his cheeks. Neither man said a word to each other, but instead walked with each other in a peaceful silence.

Around five minutes later, England and America arrived to the park, and entered. The scenery was far more beautiful than imagined – luscious green all over, and a lovely river that flowed calmly. There was also a brown, wooden bridge that went over the river. America felt himself smile and his grip tightened around England's hand. Before the Brit even had a chance to ask anything, America already yanked England toward the bridge.

"Let's go stand on the bridge, over the water!" America exclaimed. The two (England unwillingly of course) raced to the bridge and stopped at the center. America looked over the bridge and down at the water. To the side of the river, there were other couples walking around and holding hands. Some gave pecks on the cheek, others walked briskly, side by side. There were some families enjoying picnics and a mixture of children and teens all playing sports together.

America couldn't take his eyes off of any of it. He always had such a childlike personality which England adored. England asked,

"What are you staring at, America?"

"Everything," America answered. "It's all so lovely and filled with love!" His grin widened and England chuckled lightly while shaking his head. America continued on. "I really enjoy this stuff. Don't you just love, love?"

England now rolled his eyes.

"Hush up, America. You're starting to sound like the frog."

America laughed out loud, and allowed himself a rather heavy sigh afterwards. Without much thought, the next few words just slipped out of his mouth.

"I love you, England."

…

Silence. England's face turned a bright, cherry red at America's words. He nearly choked on his own spit and looked right at America.

"Y-You… you what?" England asked.

What America had actually said then sank in, and he was in shock. Though the shock didn't last long, and America quickly turned and grabbed England's hands and repeated his words.

"I love you, England!" And then, America leaned in and gave his boyfriend a lovely kiss on the lips. He stared at the elder nation longingly and awaited his response.

"I-I… I love you too… America…"

And England leaned in and kissed America once again, and the two of them enjoyed their first kiss after their first I Love You.

 **AN:** I think the ending was a little rushed, but I am so tired… I needed to finish it or else it would have ended up with all the other unfinished stories I have on this computer. :I Anyways, I hope you all enjoyed!

*The Regent's Park – A park in London. I thought the images were perf.


End file.
